Chapter 2 - SHE DROPPED THE SECOND ENVELOPE INTO HER CHAMPAGNE
The dining room fell so silent you could hear the crystal chandeliers swaying slightly above us.
Vanessa’s words hung in the air.
If I give it to you, this wedding is over.
Luca didn’t flinch.
He didn’t shout.
He simply held his hand out further.
“The envelope, Vanessa.”
She backed away, her red satin gown rustling against the Persian rug.
Her eyes darted to her uncle, Carlo, sitting at the far end of the table.
He gave her a single, sharp shake of his head.
Do not give it to him.
But Luca stepped forward.
“You took something belonging to my mother. From my house. From her nurse.”
Vanessa’s chest heaved.
She reached into the small, beaded clutch resting on the table behind her.
Her fingers trembled as she pulled out a sealed white envelope.
It was yellowed around the edges.
Sealed with red wax.
Margaret gasped softly beside me.
“That’s it,” the nurse whispered.
Luca reached for it.
But Vanessa moved faster.
She didn’t give it to him.
Instead, she plunged the envelope directly into her half-full champagne flute.
The room erupted in gasps.
The liquid instantly soaked into the old paper.
The ink beneath the surface began to bleed.
Luca’s hand clamped around Vanessa’s wrist.
He didn’t squeeze to hurt her, but his grip was absolute.
He pulled her hand out of the glass and snatched the dripping envelope from her fingers.
Vanessa laughed, a frantic, breathless sound.
“It doesn’t matter anyway, Luca. The ink was water-soluble. My father made sure of it.”
Luca stared at the ruined paper.
He carefully peeled the wet flap open.
He pulled out the letter inside.
It was completely unreadable.
A smeared mess of blue ink sliding off the page.
Vanessa smoothed her dress, regaining her composure.
“Your mother was paranoid. She wrote nonsense. I was protecting you from her delusions.”
Luca didn’t look at her.
He looked at the empty, wet envelope in his hand.
He ran his thumb inside the corner.
Then, his brow furrowed.
“She wasn’t paranoid,” Luca said quietly.
He pulled something else from the bottom of the wet envelope.
It wasn’t paper.
It was a heavy, silver key.
And wrapped around it was a delicate gold chain holding a small locket.
Vanessa’s smile vanished.
“What is that?” she whispered.
Luca held the locket up.
It hadn’t been ruined by the champagne.
“It’s my father’s locket,” Luca said.
He turned toward me.
“Emma.”
I stepped forward, my heart pounding.
“Yes, sir.”
“Take Margaret to the study. Lock the door from the inside.”
Vanessa stepped in front of me.
“She is not going anywhere in this house!”
Luca didn’t raise his voice.
But the temperature in the room plummeted.
“She is a guest. You are leaving.”
Vanessa stared at him.
“We are getting married on Saturday.”
“No,” Luca said. “We aren’t.”
He opened the small gold locket.
Inside wasn’t a picture of his mother.
It was a tiny, perfectly folded train ticket.
Punched and dated the exact day his mother died.
May you like
And the name printed on the passenger line wasn’t Elena Moretti.
It was Margaret Bennett.
